


love is drowning in a deep well

by Maharetchan



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Confrontations, M/M, Murder, Season/Series 02, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maharetchan/pseuds/Maharetchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a confrontation about love and hate in a dark room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is drowning in a deep well

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I actually wrote this on my phone in a sudden rush of inspiration, so excuse the bad quality of it. i just wanted to let out some bottled feelings I had inside after reading so much bullshit about their relationship lately, it's little more than a guts reaction.  
> 2\. I have a tumblr ([samiferist](http://samiferist.tumblr.com/) ) so feel free to message me there if you feel like. I'd love it! ^^  
> 3\. My first language is not English and I don't have an English beta reader. So please excuse the grammar mistakes that you'll probably find.  
> 4\. I love comments!

The lights in the office are all out, except one, casted by a soft and weak lamp, when you arrive there for your session, walking as quietly as you can towards the half closed door; he should be there greeting you like he always does, with his smile all teeth and darkness and cruelty staring back at you, that smile you want to wipe off his face and turn into a pained grin; but he isn't and walking in the corridor on your own feel oddly wrong.

You know he's in the room, you can see the outline of his body in the half darkness, but he gives no sign of noticing you. 

"Doctor Lecter?"

There's no reply, only the numbing sound of the silence answers you. A sudden scent of liquor hits your nostrils: he has been drinking; you remember saying those words once, a long time ago, when you believed his lies and his mind games to be the proof of his friendship. You shouldn't think about that, recalling happier times makes you weak. 

"Hannibal?"

He stirs when you call his name, he can't help it, he has to reply to the way you say it like it's an imperative he just cannot subdue no matter how hard he tries. He's the devil and has to answer when you summon him.

You come closer to him, but he doesn't acknowledge your presence until you're standing in front of his chair. He looks so small and helpless from this angle, so different from the imposing and overwhelming presence he brings with him usually. 

"Ah, Will." his voice is rough and gritty, there's something that tastes and smells like defeat coming from him. "I may have forgotten to cancel your appointment."

And in that moment you know it's true, you know that you were not meant to see this, him in this state: he's not broken nor weak, those kind of attributes don't belong to him and never will, he's still the monster you've been chasing in the swamps of his nightmares for all this time, the dark and terrible god you want to bring down and you still need to watch yourself or he'll destroy you. But now his edges have softened, his walls are as far down as you'll ever find them and it gives you a twisted sense of power, it makes you feel bigger and stronger than him.

You hate him because he did this to you, made this kind of feelings taste good in your mouth, and yet, at the same time, you can't completely hate him, because he's raw and bloody in front of you and you just want to run your fingers and tongue on his wounds and wash them clean, watch them heal.

"I suppose this is only fair. I have seen you at your lowest, it feels just that you now can see me at mine."

"Do you want me to pity you? Do you want me to be sorry for you?"

Your words are venom, acid burning in your mouth when they get out, hitting him with as much strength as you can convey, because you want to hurt him, you want to destroy him, tear all his limbs apart and leave nothing behind. He's a monster and a killer and he devastated you and you need to hate him and kill him, even though you feel empty and when you go looking for it inside your heart, there's nothing that resembles contempt there, only a deep and darker void. 

He looks up and for a moment his eyes are aflame with rage, your words sinking into him and making the beast he keeps chained tightly in his soul come out for a second; you stay still and hold his gaze and in the end his feral grin turns into an indifferent and blank expression once again. Your legs feel weak while you stare at him pouring more scotch into his glass, drinking some and then handling it to you. 

You accept the offer and drink too. 

Hannibal Lecter stares back at you with his maroon eyes as open and honest as you'll ever see them and you know that whatever you asked him to say he'll tell the truth now and only now at this very moment, because his heart is in your hands, because he's fleshed out and naked in front of you and nothing is holding together the mask anymore. 

"Why were you drinking"

You want to ask, but different words pour out of your mouth. 

"Why have you done this to me?"

Your voice is cracked and raw, you're so desperate for answers you wouldn't even care if they were lies; you want to stab him and kill him and watch him bleed out at your feet, you want to hear him scream and cry out in pain while you torture him. And you want to drag him up and kiss him, you want him to be inside you, you want to run your fingers over the scars you've left on him and kiss those too until you'll know what every part of him tastes like. 

He doesn't reply for a long time, but his eyes never leave yours.

"I wanted to see who you really were, i suppose. No one had ever digged deep enough inside of you to find out the truth, to see you unblemished and pure, and I wanted to be the first. I wanted to be the first and only one to bite into the deepest corner of your soul and drink and taste the blood there. You were a beautiful painting I wanted to restore so desperately it blinded me completely, you blinded me. I was ready to break you to pieces if that meant setting you free."

You let the glass fall and it shatters on the floor. You look at him and you want to kid yourself into believing those are lies, that he's toying with you and throwing pathetic excuses at you.

But you know he's telling the truth, and it hurts you more than anything that your heart had been lolonging to hear that, to understand what lied beyond the deception and the manipulation. 

Now you do and you wish you hadn't.

You sink on your knees in front of him, kneel between his legs, grab his waist hard while he moves forward, his hand going to cup your face. 

"You killed Beverly, you son of a bitch. You tore her apart, you disacrated her body. You ruined my life, you put me in jail for your crimes, you destroyed who I was and everything I had. You were my friend and you did this to me. I killed her too, her blood is on my hands and I should hate you for all of this."

Hannibal's eyes shimmer in the darkness, they never miss a beat or look away. You can't even read his expression because the torrent erupting from your guts is taking up all your attention; you need to let it out or it'll melt you from the inside.

"I want to kill you, I want to cut you up and strangle you with my hands, I want to carve your heart out. I want to hate you more than I want anything in this world and I hate myself because I can't do it. Because I can't hate you no matter what you've done to me. No matter what you'll continue to do. Why couldn't you just tell me all this from the start?!"

How desperate and broken you sound makes you want to throw up: you wish you could grab one of the pieces of glass on the floor and stab him in the neck, end this now once and for all; instead you take his left wrist in your hand and kiss his scar, suck on it, dig your teeth in the soft flesh there until he moans and pulls your hair so hard you cry out. 

Hannibal doesn't say anything, he doesn't slip you some convenient excuse or lie. Instead he kisses you and his mouth tastes of liquor and blood and destruction and you just want more of it until you'll be too intoxicated to remember who you are and who is he.

You taste his terrible love for you, your own for him and there are tears in your eyes falling on your cheeks, while you grab him hard and then abandon your head in his lap when he let's you go.

He caresses you gently, hushes and comforts you while you let out all you had bottled inside. He listens to your screams and insults and spite and does nothing to stop you. You both know this doesn't change anything, that there's no absolution or forgiveness for either of you, but every time he kisses you there's something that slowly mends inside of both of you, truth and awareness creating a patch on the hole in your hearts.

His eyes are wet and blistered with a terrible longing for you when you look up. He kisses you again, bites your neck, sucks on your pulse. You let him.

And then you dig your nails into his arms until you draw blood. 

"I can't let you get away with it and I can't despise you. I can't forgive you, but I can't stop loving you either. What are we doing, what are we going to do?"

You feel his hands everywhere on you: you crave more of these touches and you know you'll give him more, that you'll allow him to do so much more than this, no matter how sick you feel when you think what he has done with them.

"We will live to see how this ends, Will. We will fight and we can love and we will hate. We can't stop and there won't be any salvation for either of us, if we die, we'll die with our sins strong and merciless. But while we are still alive we are going to keep standing and breathing and fighting. This is who we are."

You close your eyes, kiss him again and believe him.


End file.
